“And when you decide to come out of the closet and tell us you’re hitting up Lucy Love from last year’s music camp, you know where to find me,” Scott said, peeling himself off the mattress and ruffling Darren’s hair again for good measure.
“Oh, piss off.”
Scott stooped to hug him again, nearly strangling Darren with his shoulder. “Seriously,” he said lowly in his ear, “you haven’t properly talked to me since you were like twelve. I miss you, bro.”
Darren squashed the twinge of regret in the middle of his chest. “Call me ‘bro’ again, and you’ll be missing me from the seventh circle of Hell,” he threatened and shoved Scott off. The guy was like an octopus.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s adorable when you try to be a man.”
Darren hit him; Scott darted out the door, cackling like a madman, and Darren slammed it for good measure, ignoring Father’s thunder of “BOYS!” from the living room where Misha was still punching the shit out of the piano.